


harness your blame

by rooted



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: #HaikyuuAngstWeek2020, Break Up, Goodbyes, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Time Skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:08:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27364027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rooted/pseuds/rooted
Summary: The evening sky is growing satiny and soft as it watches Osamu melt into his sorrow. Osamu is flushed red and raw and freshly wounded, trying to find mercy under the dark blue of Tokyo.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu
Comments: 9
Kudos: 31
Collections: Haikyuu Angst Week 2020





	harness your blame

**Author's Note:**

> [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0OsiS8CykqqI1XoNJ8WBsZ?si=NEeNJ77mRpaJrYx2n_EKew) (don't shuffle)
> 
> (#haikyuuangstweek2020 prompt used: day 7, goodbye. this is a prologue for our real love story. this is about a heartache that is of a healing one, not a hurting one.)

_It is easy to be beautiful; it is difficult to appear so. I admire you, beloved, for the trap you’ve set. It's like a final chapter no one reads because the plot is over._

_(Frank O’Hara)_

* * *

  
  


Miya Osamu realized Akaashi Keiji had fallen out of love long before Keiji himself did. 

The absence of his little love notes, his excuses for cancelling date nights, his disproportionate irritation at Osamu’s every little mistake. The sweet words that he has stopped saying, the kisses that were getting caught under his tongue, the I-love-yous that were tripping on his teeth, dissolved in his lips.

It’s not like Osamu did not try, but reaching for Keiji—his hands, his eyes, his affection—had become a constant stretching for which Osamu’s heart was no longer adequate. You could only love a ghost for so long. Yet still. When Keiji called it off, it did not feel like release. It did not feel like relief. It felt like a thousand shrapnels between Osamu’s bones and blood vessels.

Now here is Osamu, sitting in their living room. Keiji’s living room. Osamu is feeling like a stranger in the space he’s been living in for almost two years. Keiji is sitting in front of him—solid and steady, but at the same time, completely gone. Osamu has not looked at Keiji in the eyes since they started the conversation. He did not want his carefully-harnessed ability to understand Keiji’s feelings through his eyes to break his heart before Keiji’s words. 

Keiji takes a deep breath and exhales, and starts fiddling with his fingers. Staring intently at Osamu’s direction. Osamu is resting his elbows on his thighs, his head down, covering his face with his own hands.

“I’m sorry that I cannot fix this. This hurts me too.” The bespectacled man puts his head down too, giving up trying to make Osamu return his gaze.

Deep down, Osamu knows that Keiji’s words are not untrue, but how dare he. How dare he say that. How dare he tell him he is in pain when he’s the one who leaves. The one who lets go. The one who gives up. 

“You have no right to say that.” Osamu has no grace to spare. 

“I’m sorry.” Keiji only has apologies to offer.

“I know you think this is my fault.” Keiji admits. “I think this is my fault too. I let this go on for too long when I knew I no longer felt the same way.”

Keiji gets off the sofa and slowly kneels in front of Osamu. He puts his hands over Osamu’s and gently pulls them away from his face. Osamu doesn’t resist, but he keeps his head down. Keiji squeezes Osamu’s hands and softly rubs them, like a plea. Osamu wants to laugh at how ironic this is, that this goodbye is the warmest touch Keiji has given him in the last few weeks.

“Samu, please look at me.” Keiji’s voice as soft as it can be, but heavy with the knowledge that this will be the last thing he will ever ask of Osamu.

Osamu sighs and finally returns Keiji’s look. Pained gunmetal blue meets glassy grey circles, thin red threads in their periphery.

“I’m sorry. I know I grew cold and I can only imagine how hurtful that must be. I stayed because I still wanted to be devoted to you. I did. Just that, somewhere along the way, I felt like... we stopped growing from each other. For each other. I felt like we got too comfortable.” 

Osamu pulls his hands away from Keiji’s and folds his arms in front of his chest. Keiji rests his hands on Osamu’s knees instead. 

“And with that stagnation, our relationship felt like a…” Keiji swallows and inhales, and Osamu will feel like Keiji has taken all the air in the room within him when he hears his next word. “Burden.” 

Keiji’s honesty used to feel astute, but now it feels cruel. Not that he is unkind, but that word is the truest thing he could say about their relationship, and that is where the tragedy lies. Osamu can’t say that he did not feel it too, but he’s always been the stubborn one between the two of them. He is, however, familiar with Keiji’s habit to overcommit, to pour all his soul and stretch himself thin to the point of no return. He knows it’s better for them to end things before they grow resentful of each other, and not desperate and apologetic like they are now. But the least painful end is still not a painless one.

“I think our time is up, Samu.”

Osamu starts nodding, half in understanding, half in wanting to end the conversation as soon as possible. 

“Okay.” Osamu rubs his hands, cold as ice, together. “Our time is up.”

“Okay.” Keiji gives Osamu’s knees a gentle squeeze before peeling himself away and sit back on the sofa.

The room is steeped in silence heavy as lead. Osamu has no idea how much time has passed when Keiji finally gets up and walks to the kitchen. He comes back with a glass of water and gives it to Osamu. Osamu takes the offer and wonders how someone so ready to tend to his needs, so used to his habits, so familiar with his love, stops wanting to be with him. What else is there after love?

“I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight, and then I’ll be staying with Tenma-san until you have another place to go.”

Osamu should not be surprised by how thoughtful and practical Keiji is, but seeing him maintain that behavior at a time like this disorients him. This is not a normal fight that will be solved with a good night sleep and a sensible talk; this is the _end_ of _everything_ they built in the last couple of years. Is it too much to expect some sign of devastation? A scoff escapes Osamu’s mouth before he realizes it. Keiji freezes at the sound.

“How is this so easy for you?” The bitterness in Osamu’s tone is undeniable.

“This is not easy for me. This had not been easy for me for a while.” There’s a certain hardness in Keiji’s voice this time, as if he had been holding in the words for too long they became stones instead of sound.

Osamu responds with a cold, sharp stare and a brow raised in accusation. _Look at you, completely okay now._

“Just because you have never seen me cry over you, over this, doesn’t mean that it never happened, Samu.” Keiji’s voice breaks before he reaches the eighth word, the facade he was holding falls apart. “I just want to make this as easy as possible for both of us. I _need_ to make this easy for us.” 

Osamu looks away when Keiji’s tears start falling. Not fair, not fair, not fair. 

“I’ll leave before you wake up. And just leave the keys under the mat when you leave.” Keiji takes off his glasses and wipes his tear-stained face with his fingers. “Take all the time you need, and take anything you want.”

Keiji walks towards Osamu, who is still sitting in the same spot. Osamu looks up to meet his eyes. _What else do you want from me? I don’t have anything left._

Keiji leans forward, Osamu holds his breath, and Keiji gently presses his lips on Osamu’s forehead for one, two, three seconds. Osamu exhales as Keiji lets go.

“Take all the time you need,” he repeats one last time, before walking away and into the guest room. Leaving Osamu alone in the living room, looking out the windows. The evening sky is growing satiny and soft as it watches him melt into his sorrow. Osamu is flushed red and raw and freshly wounded, trying to find mercy under the dark blue of Tokyo. Time is all he has.

* * *

_I’ll be back, I'll re-emerge, defeated, from the valley; you don’t want me to go where you go, so I go where you don’t want me to. It’s only afternoon, there’s a lot ahead. There won’t be any mail downstairs. Turning, I spit in the lock and the knob turns._

_(Frank O’Hara)_

**Author's Note:**

> definitely hurt my own head and heart writing this despite how short it is, but i feel like osamu had to learn this love first, deal with the fallout, and return to himself first before he can arrive to the love of his life. kudos/comments are as always, highly appreciated. tell me what you think, what you feel, what you want to know!


End file.
